downright grim, and spent most of the trip chewing the inside of his cheeks and glancing up into the sky.
Of course, everything in the Freeborn’s plan depended on the argument Darien would make to his father this morning. Without Dorfort's might behind them, Garrick and the Freeborn would fail. The pressure had to be intense.
“I never knew my own father,” Garrick said, hoping to find something to keep Darien’s mind occupied.
Darien gave him a sideways glance.
“I don’t know what it’s like to live in a shadow like that,” Garrick continued. “But I do know what it’s like to be seen as an apprentice in a world of mages. Perhaps it’s similar to what you’re working through today?”
“What are you saying, Garrick?”
He shrugged.
“I always feel … incompetent … when I’m around real sorcerers. Like they've done so much more than I have. They always seem to know so much more, seem to be so comfortable.” Garrick waited a moment. “But things, they seem to happen however they were fated to.”
Darien laughed, and Garrick felt better.
“I’m not worried my father will think me incompetent.”
“What are you worried about, then?”
“I’ve gone against his wishes.”
“So you think you’ve let him down?”
“Maybe.”
“You think he’ll be angry.”
They traveled farther without speaking.
“No,” Darien said. “That’s not it.”
“So, what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see,” Garrick replied, though he most definitely did not see.
“What if he doesn’t even grant me audience?” Darien finally said.
Garrick gave a grunt in return.
“He
will
be angry,” Darien said. “It’s certainly possible he won’t want to see me.”
“Your father loves you, Darien.”
“No. My father loved the boy I was. I have no idea what he thinks of me now.”
Garrick brought a gloved hand up to scratch the side of his cheek. “Well,” he said. “I suppose we could just skip it all. Just head back to Caledena, hit the Dragongriff tables again, and put it all on griffin five.”
Darien laughed again.
“Only if you use your sorcery right and proper this time.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
A short while later they came to their destination.
The wall surrounding Dorfort’s government center was impressive, a thick and impervious barricade made of mortar and stone. Heavy oaken doors blocked the entrance, and guards stood between crenellations at the top of the wall. The university center, brilliant in its whitewashed splendor, rose to the sky to Garrick’s right, a granary complete with its water-driven millstone was built to his left.
Garrick had spent hours at the university center over the past weeks. He had picked through hundreds of scrolls and diaries that were filled with musty ruminations made about the orders. Yet, he didn’t feel any wiser for them.
Their horses approached the gate.
“Greetings, Harol,” Darien called to the guard.
“Darien,” Harol replied. “It has been too long.”
“I need to see my father.”
“With whom do you ride?”
“This is Garrick, a Torean mage. I vouch he has no ill intentions.”
“Aye,” Harol said. “Your word is good.”
The door rumbled and creaked open with the strained sound of taut rope.
Darien gave the guard his weapons, and Garrick promptly did the same. After stable workers took their mounts, they followed Harol as he escorted them across the manor yard and toward the inner castle. Women stopped their washing as Garrick and Darien passed. A young boy tending goats leaned on his staff to stare at them. Guards watched their every step.
It was Darien they were looking at, Garrick realized.
“You’ve created quite a stir,” he said.
“Yes,” Darien replied. “It’s not every day that the commander’s boy comes home with a demon mage in tow.”
Their boots rang out against the stone walkway.
As they approached the central manor, the door swung open to reveal an old man, draped in
Of course, everything in the Freeborn’s plan depended on the argument Darien would make to his father this morning. Without Dorfort's might behind them, Garrick and the Freeborn would fail. The pressure had to be intense.
“I never knew my own father,” Garrick said, hoping to find something to keep Darien’s mind occupied.
Darien gave him a sideways glance.
“I don’t know what it’s like to live in a shadow like that,” Garrick continued. “But I do know what it’s like to be seen as an apprentice in a world of mages. Perhaps it’s similar to what you’re working through today?”
“What are you saying, Garrick?”
He shrugged.
“I always feel … incompetent … when I’m around real sorcerers. Like they've done so much more than I have. They always seem to know so much more, seem to be so comfortable.” Garrick waited a moment. “But things, they seem to happen however they were fated to.”
Darien laughed, and Garrick felt better.
“I’m not worried my father will think me incompetent.”
“What are you worried about, then?”
“I’ve gone against his wishes.”
“So you think you’ve let him down?”
“Maybe.”
“You think he’ll be angry.”
They traveled farther without speaking.
“No,” Darien said. “That’s not it.”
“So, what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see,” Garrick replied, though he most definitely did not see.
“What if he doesn’t even grant me audience?” Darien finally said.
Garrick gave a grunt in return.
“He
will
be angry,” Darien said. “It’s certainly possible he won’t want to see me.”
“Your father loves you, Darien.”
“No. My father loved the boy I was. I have no idea what he thinks of me now.”
Garrick brought a gloved hand up to scratch the side of his cheek. “Well,” he said. “I suppose we could just skip it all. Just head back to Caledena, hit the Dragongriff tables again, and put it all on griffin five.”
Darien laughed again.
“Only if you use your sorcery right and proper this time.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
A short while later they came to their destination.
The wall surrounding Dorfort’s government center was impressive, a thick and impervious barricade made of mortar and stone. Heavy oaken doors blocked the entrance, and guards stood between crenellations at the top of the wall. The university center, brilliant in its whitewashed splendor, rose to the sky to Garrick’s right, a granary complete with its water-driven millstone was built to his left.
Garrick had spent hours at the university center over the past weeks. He had picked through hundreds of scrolls and diaries that were filled with musty ruminations made about the orders. Yet, he didn’t feel any wiser for them.
Their horses approached the gate.
“Greetings, Harol,” Darien called to the guard.
“Darien,” Harol replied. “It has been too long.”
“I need to see my father.”
“With whom do you ride?”
“This is Garrick, a Torean mage. I vouch he has no ill intentions.”
“Aye,” Harol said. “Your word is good.”
The door rumbled and creaked open with the strained sound of taut rope.
Darien gave the guard his weapons, and Garrick promptly did the same. After stable workers took their mounts, they followed Harol as he escorted them across the manor yard and toward the inner castle. Women stopped their washing as Garrick and Darien passed. A young boy tending goats leaned on his staff to stare at them. Guards watched their every step.
It was Darien they were looking at, Garrick realized.
“You’ve created quite a stir,” he said.
“Yes,” Darien replied. “It’s not every day that the commander’s boy comes home with a demon mage in tow.”
Their boots rang out against the stone walkway.
As they approached the central manor, the door swung open to reveal an old man, draped in
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